


am i ready for love (or maybe just a best friend)

by bellawritess



Series: malum prompts [19]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Cheesy cuteness, Established Relationship, Fluff, High School, M/M, Rating for Language, i have literally never played fifa please forgive me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:00:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27728459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellawritess/pseuds/bellawritess
Summary: “Speaking of.” Michael folds his arms over his chest. “What’s with the greeting, Hood?”Calum’s face screws up into a look of confusion. “What?”“‘Hi,’” Michael parrots. “That’s it? No kiss? What kind of shit boyfriend are you?”
Relationships: Michael Clifford/Calum Hood
Series: malum prompts [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026381
Comments: 12
Kudos: 21





	am i ready for love (or maybe just a best friend)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mimi_reads](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimi_reads/gifts).



> **prompt:** against a locker kiss
> 
> [tumblr link!](https://clumsyclifford.tumblr.com/post/636235952568909824/so-turns-out-these-are-all-very-cute-54)
> 
> title from turning out by ajr

Michael’s getting his books for class when he feels someone close in on him. 

“Hi,” he says, turning to see Calum. Calum, with a mischievous smile on his face. 

“Hi,” Calum says. 

“How was Mali’s birthday?”

Calum shrugs, leaning over Michael with one palm flat against the locker next to Michael’s. “Fine. All her friends were over so I basically just stayed in my room. But they watched some girly movie anyway, so no big loss.”

“You’re full of shit,” Michael informs him, retrieving his last book and closing his locker. “You love girly movies.”

Calum scoffs. “I do not!”

“You  _ made _ me watch  _ Love, Actually _ last Christmas.”

“Because it’s a Christmas movie!”

“Full of shit,” Michael repeats. Calum shakes his head.

“Wanna go somewhere?” he asks.

Michael realizes he’s backed against the locker. He could move — could slide to the right and step around Calum — but he likes where he is just fine.

“When? Now?”

Calum nods. “Come on, I don’t feel like doing maths today,” he cajoles. That explains the mischievous smile, at least.

“I never feel like doing maths,” Michael says. “We’d be abandoning Luke, though.”

“Well, that’s Luke’s fault for not being either of our boyfriends,” Calum says. Which is a fair point.

“Speaking of.” Michael folds his arms over his chest. “What’s with the greeting, Hood?”

Calum’s face screws up into a look of confusion. “What?”

“‘Hi,’” Michael parrots. “That’s it? No kiss? What kind of shit boyfriend are you?”

Calum rolls his eyes fondly. “I’m not that easy, mate. You’ve got to earn your kisses.”

“I’ll ditch with you if you kiss me,” Michael barters, and Calum grins.

“I will let you have that,” Calum says. “Because it’s a win-win situation for me.”

It’s a win-win situation for Michael, too, and he’s about to say so when Calum crowds into Michael’s space, closer than he’d been, and kisses him softly. The cold metal of the locker seeps through the back of Michael’s t-shirt, a harsh juxtaposition to the warmth of Calum’s lips on his. When he leans away, Michael smiles.

“Okay. Let me put my books back and then we can go.”

Calum grins.

* * *

Neither of them drive, so they walk back to Michael’s house.

“Water,” Calum commands Michael as they enter through the back door. They don’t really need to — Michael’s parents are definitely at work and won’t be home until late afternoon — but it’s always more fun, pretending like there’s a lot at stake when there’s not. The thrill is only really fun when it’s pretend, but when it’s pretend, it’s awfully fun.

“Say please.”

“Water, please.”

Michael grins and pinches Calum’s cheek. “Yes, sir.”

Michael gets water for them both while Calum heads to the living room to set up FIFA. After a moment standing at the tap, he hears the first notes of ‘Jasey Rae’ floating in from the other room, and smiles.

“You’ve got good taste in music,” he says as he enters the living room. Calum graciously accepts his glass.

“I have,” he says. “Very true.” 

The song is playing from Calum’s phone, which is perched precariously on the armrest of the sofa. On the TV, the game is already loaded up, so Michael takes his controller into his lap and, with  _ don’t make this easy, I want you to mean it _ backing him up, proceeds to destroy Calum in the first round.

His second victory closes out with ‘Feeling This’; his third, ‘Lifestyles of the Rich & Famous,’ at which point Calum tosses his controller aside and collapses dramatically over Michael’s lap. “I surrender. I give up.”

“Fuck yes! Victory,” Michael crows, poking Calum’s cheek. 

“I’ll beat you one of these days,” Calum announces, looking up at Michael with wide, sparkling eyes. “Just have to, like, break your thumb or something.”

“Hey, is that a threat? I’m pretty sure that’s against the rules. Red card.”

“You can’t red card me for that!”

“You just threatened to break my thumb!”

“I wasn’t saying  _ I’d  _ do it. I was saying that it would have to happen to you.”

“Red card, red card,” Michael declares. “This could be terrible for your career, Hood. If you don’t make this right, the FIFA people are going to ban you from FIFA.”

Calum snorts. “How do I make it right?”

Michael pretends to think. “The committee has decided there’s a solution, but it’s a weird one,” he warns Calum. 

Calum shifts and sits up, giving Michael a solemn look. “I’ll do anything. Anything at all. FIFA is my life.”

“Okay, well.” Michael drops his voice conspiratorially. “To start, you have to make out with me for at  _ least _ ten seconds.”

Calum groans in faux despair. “No! Anything but that.”

“You  _ have _ to, Cal, or else you’re banned from FIFA.”

“Fine.” The twinkle in Calum’s eye is now in his smile as well, gleaming off his teeth as he wraps a hand around Michael’s neck and pulls him in. “Twist my arm, I’ll do it,” he murmurs, before kissing Michael, and Michael all but melts into it and almost forgets what his second condition for not banning Calum from FIFA was supposed to be. He loves Calum, and though he’s never said it in as many words, he’s pretty sure Calum knows.

It’s probably longer than ten seconds before Calum pulls back, but he doesn’t seem too pressed about the timing. Michael gives him a cheeky smile. “Secondly, you have to call me  _ sir _ for the rest of the day.”

Calum laughs. “I am  _ not _ doing that.”

“You have to!”

“One more round,” Calum says instead. “Winner takes all. If you win, I’ll call you whatever you want. If I win, FIFA can't ban me.”

And, like. Michael hadn’t really been married to the  _ sir _ idea (although he does think it would be pretty funny and kind of hot to have Calum calling him  _ sir _ for the day), and Calum looks too hopeful to shoot down. “What makes you think you’ll win this round after I just totally crushed you the last three?”

Calum picks up his controller in lieu of responding. “Get ready to die, Cliffo.”

So Michael sighs and starts the game again.

It’s not that Calum’s bad at FIFA. It’s just that Michael’s way better. That’s probably because the game is Michael’s, and Calum’s only real practice is when he comes over to Michael’s, since Mali refuses to play, but whatever. Michael likes being better than Calum at something, when Calum is so much, like, smarter and hotter and cooler and more sociable than Michael. Michael’s not  _ insecure _ , per se, but it’s nice to be able to annihilate his boyfriend in at least one area. 

Except Calum’s a dirty fucking cheat, apparently. Because the game is tied, they’re down to the last minutes, and just as Michael’s lining up a shot, Calum reaches over and squeezes Michael’s thigh, and Michael jerks, distracted, and misses the goal. “You absolute shit!”

Calum just chuckles and leans towards Michael with a guilty grin. “Not my fault you’re irresistible,” he says in his defense, and kisses Michael. Harder than the last time, enough that Michael has to take a second to recover his senses when they break, and as he’s collecting himself he sees Calum smoothly sink a shot into his goal as the timer runs down to zero.

“Are you  _ kidding _ me, fuck you!” Michael protests, because,  _ really, _ that’s so incredibly unfair, but Calum’s cheers basically drown him out.

“Victory is mine!” he chants. “I just absolutely wrecked you, Michael! I just fucking ended your entire football career! See, this is  _ way _ more true to real life.”

“You’re a cheater,” Michael argues. “You distracted me!”

“That’s called strategy.” His stupid fucking grin-of-questionable-intentions is back. “I beat you. Admit it. If not fair and square, then at least at all.”

It’s not like Michael had really had anything at stake here — look, he’d basically figured Calum would cheat, because even Calum isn’t enough of an idiot to expect to beat Michael on his own merit in a game he’s just lost at three times, especially with the threat of having to concede to some dumb condition Michael had set up if he lost — but still. It’s the  _ principle.  _ “You’re such a cheater,” he says again. “How can I trust you in a relationship if I can’t even trust you in FIFA?”

Calum snickers. “I gain nothing if I cheat on you,” he says. “While cheating at FIFA means I don’t have to call you  _ sir _ all day.”

Michael shakes his head. “So dishonest.”

“You love it,” Calum wheedles. And yeah, Michael does. Obviously he does. He loves everything about Calum.

“Your mum,” he says, instead of that. 

Because, like. Calum knows. And there’s no point wasting words on something as trivial as admitting to being in love when he could instead crack a dumb joke.

(He’ll say it another day, and frankly it will probably also happen in a FIFA-related situation, because they find themselves in those a lot. He  _ will. _ They have time.)

“ _ Your _ mum,” Calum says back, shouldering Michael. He gives him a smile. “Another round? Promise not to cheat.”

Michael would play it anyway, even if Calum swore up and down that he’d be the dirtiest cheater on the planet. Basically, he’d do anything Calum suggested.

“Okay,” he says, quickly kissing Calum on the nose and then the lips. “I’ll wipe that smug look right off your face, mark my words.”

And he does beat Calum. By a lot. 

(But Calum doesn’t look disappointed at all, just kind of happy and warm, and Michael knows, all of a sudden, what Calum hasn’t said either, and knows that they could go the rest of their lives without saying it aloud, and Michael would still be one hundred percent certain that Calum loves him.)

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading <3 i'm on tumblr [@clumsyclifford](http://clumsyclifford.tumblr.com/) so come say hey!


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